Now Addicted To Emily

6 Dec

In writing Tuesday’s post I read a lot more articles written by Emily and I’ve fallen just a little bit in love.  Also, I’m pretty sure she also lives in Brooklyn and I should invite her out for tea or something.

Instead of writing an interesting (read: good) post about each of these I’m going to comment briefly about a bunch of her posts and trust you people to be good readers and follow the appropriate links.

MY FIRST BLOWJOB: A TERRIBLE MEMORY FOR MY TERRIBLE MOOD

Oh, Emily.  I’m so sorry.  And I’m so upset because though all my firsts are comparatively consensual I think most girls have similar first experiences.  Similar in that most of those experiences are accompanied by thoughts like “What am I supposed to be doing now?  I’d do it if you just show me what it’s supposed to be like,” instead of (god forbid) actual desire.

Before I even really get the hang of what I’m doing, he is cumming in my mouth. I feel impressed with myself, powerful. I didn’t even know what to do! …

“You really do like sex!” he says after they have dispersed, and I think Do I?  I’m still not sure.

It’s hard to separate genuine desire from the desire to please in little girls socialized to find value in objectification, hard to unlearn games you’ve been playing since before you could emotionally comprehend them. My willingness to be sexual, my ability to perform my job well, these are what made me feel valuable. Moving forward, these attributes will become a two-pronged suit of armor. As long as I am sexually available, I am indispensable. I am safe.

Do I like sex even? Do I like to be heaped with abuse, or do I like the panting fervor it inspires in the men who prey on such vulnerability? Do I still just relish the look of enamored surprise on their faces when they ask me, “So I could just do this…?” Do I think that I am securing my position this way? Do I even have any idea what I like, when and how I like it, and if not, how do I go about finding out?

5 PRETTY EFFED-UP BUT REAL THINGS I ACTUALLY FANTASIZE ABOUT

Thank you Emily.  Fantasies can be fucked up without meaning that we ourselves are fucked up.  And they can be as visceral and humiliating and awful as your erotic imagination wants them to be.  It means nothing bad about you and I envy your bravery in telling a truth few people would be bold enough to tell.  Also, FANTASIZING ABOUT SOMETHING DOES NOT MEAN YOU WANT IT TO HAPPEN.

IF I EVER GET RAPED AGAIN, I WILL PROBABLY KILL MYSELF

I’m so sorry for everything sucky in the world but I’m glad that you have developed a motto that helps you cope with upsetting situations.  Also, hearing about your fear at night makes me feel less alone in mine.

Oh, Emily.  Thank you.

One Response to “Now Addicted To Emily”

  1. Cory December 6, 2012 at 5:57 pm #

    I want to be Emily

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